Deeper Intent, Ninth Royal Uncle Is Ill

The next morning, when Serena Feng woke up, Nolan Arden was already gone. Rubbing her sore arms, she glared resentfully at the low couch behind her.

Sleeping on a low couch is just like sleeping on a sofa—there’s no way to stretch out, and if you’re not careful, you’ll fall off. After just one night, Serena swore she’d never do it again. It completely ruins sleep quality.

Fuming, Serena tossed the blanket back onto the bed and tidied up a bit. When Jada and Mira came in, she told them to change the bedding and sheets, saying, “I accidentally spilled medicine on the blanket yesterday. The smell is awful—please replace it for me.”

Sure enough, the bedding and sheets reeked of medicine. Jada and Mira didn’t suspect a thing and quickly took them away.

After breakfast, Serena gathered her prepared supplies and, escorted by guards, headed to the Royal Academy for her fourth duel against Wendy Summers.

The painting contest would also have seven judges: Ninth Royal Uncle, Prince Terrence Valen of Lyndaria, Old Master Yan, Master Marcus Wynn, and three renowned artists from Jixia Academy.

Hearing the name Jixia Academy, Serena couldn’t help but twitch her lips. If she’d guessed right, the three votes for her in yesterday’s calligraphy contest had come from the Jixia judges—otherwise, it wouldn’t have been exactly three ballots.

When Nolan insisted on anonymous judging, Serena knew he had a backup plan. She’d guessed correctly. Wendy probably figured it out too when she got home, but so what? She had no proof.

Those seven vote slips—Nolan had already ordered them burned. Wendy could only speculate, and with mere suspicion, she wouldn’t dare confront the Jixia judges.

When Serena arrived at the Royal Academy, she received news: Ninth Royal Uncle had caught a wind-cold and couldn’t attend as judge. The Crown Prince would take his place.

"Ninth Royal Uncle caught a cold?" Impossible. When she parted ways with him last night, Nolan was perfectly fine. How could he be sick after just one night—did he take a cold bath or something?

Uh... Thinking back to what happened in the carriage yesterday afternoon, it wasn’t entirely impossible, Serena thought mischievously.

"Yes, Royal Uncle has caught a wind-cold. The imperial physicians say he shouldn’t go out and needs to rest." The Crown Prince expressed his concern just right—Serena couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just for show.

"I understand. Thank you, Your Highness." The Crown Prince didn’t seem to be lying, but Serena still found Nolan’s sudden illness suspicious.

Nolan was never the fragile type.

"No need to thank me. Royal Uncle was very worried about you—he sent word to the palace first thing this morning, saying he couldn’t come to judge and asked my father to let me take his place. He specifically told me to take good care of you."

The Crown Prince never missed a chance to speak well of Nolan in front of Serena. He really was a thoughtful nephew. Serena glanced at him, then obediently lowered her head, playing the shy act: "Thank you, Your Highness, and thank Ninth Royal Uncle for his kindness. My status is too humble to enter Ninth Prince Manor, so please convey my gratitude to him when you see him."

"What, you’re not planning to visit Royal Uncle?" The Crown Prince sounded surprised.

Now, everyone in the Capital knew Nolan’s famous line: "I’ve always cared for those close to me. What, does Prince Terrence have a problem with that?"

Because of that remark, every woman in the Capital believed Nolan might look cold, but he was actually the most devoted man alive. And Serena, of all women, had managed to hold onto such a man—no wonder everyone envied her.

Nolan had always been one of the most sought-after men among the noblewomen of the Capital, but after that remark, he became the undisputed number one.

"My status is too humble to step into Ninth Prince Manor. Your Highness conveying my thanks is more than enough." Serena had no intention of visiting. She was a doctor—if a doctor made a house call, it was never for good news. Besides, with all the fuss Nolan was making over his illness, she suspected he’d keep up the act for quite a while.

"Ahem. Serena, are you joking? Yesterday you rode out of the city in the same carriage with Royal Uncle. The imperial physicians say he caught a cold because of the wind yesterday afternoon."

She’d already ridden in Nolan’s carriage, and she still had the nerve to claim she was too lowly to enter his manor. The Crown Prince was speechless. He didn’t believe it for a second. He even hinted that Nolan’s illness was all Serena’s fault, and yet she still refused to visit.

Serena had been suspicious from the start, and now she was even more certain—Nolan’s "illness" was definitely not simple. He’d never fall sick for no reason. There had to be some deeper motive, and she was determined not to get involved.

"Your Highness must be joking. I rode out with Ninth Royal Uncle yesterday afternoon, and I’m just a weak woman, but I didn’t catch a cold. Nolan isn’t that fragile—he must’ve run into something else after he got home." Serena smiled as she explained. She’d be crazy to take the blame for Nolan’s illness.

"If Royal Uncle heard that, he’d be heartbroken," the Crown Prince said, half-joking, half-serious.

Serena just smiled and didn’t respond.

"Your Highness, Miss Feng, what are you two chatting about that’s so amusing?" Wendy Summers swept in, radiant in a pink-violet gown, her smile brighter than a sunflower—completely different from her breakdown yesterday.

You had to admit, Wendy was tough. In just one day, she’d bounced back from that crushing defeat.

Serena subtly stepped back, putting distance between herself and the Crown Prince. She turned to Wendy and said, "Miss Summers, you’re just in time. We were discussing yesterday’s contest and wondering if you’ll be unable to accept defeat again today."

She even added a big, bright smile—clearly trying to rile Wendy up.

Serena really was wicked. Nolan was in for trouble with her. The Crown Prince just shook his head and smiled, not realizing the fondness in his eyes. Before Wendy could react, he gently intervened, "Alright, let’s get ready for the contest. If you lose, Royal Uncle won’t let me off."

"Yes, Your Highness," Serena replied with mock seriousness, bowing playfully.

Watching the Crown Prince and Serena banter, Wendy’s face turned pale with anger, but the two gave her no chance to speak. Infuriating!

Wendy clenched her fists, shut her eyes, and refused to look at Serena’s annoying face. She was determined to see how Serena would win without Nolan around.

The Crown Prince was no Nolan. Nolan could openly declare favoritism, but the Crown Prince couldn’t—every move he made was watched by countless eyes. One wrong step and the censors would impeach him, and then he’d lose his title for good.

With that thought, Wendy calmed down, gliding to her seat. As she passed Serena, she smiled and said, "Miss Feng, I’m looking forward to your performance today. You’ve given me surprise after surprise these past three days. I hope you won’t disappoint me today."

It was true—Serena had dazzled everyone in the qin, chess, and calligraphy rounds, winning in ways no one expected. Each victory was more impressive than the last.

Wendy’s words weren’t just sarcasm. Today, all eyes were on Serena; even people outside the Capital were speculating about what jaw-dropping move she’d pull off in the painting contest.